I Don't Do Domestic
by swordsandstories
Summary: A series of one shots wherein the Doctor attempts to be domestic and fails. Very lighthearted, fluffy, and cute.


**Do you know when you sometimes get random bursts of inspiration and you just write a ton of random, fluffy crap all at once? I think it's safe to say that happened when I wrote this fic. :) I hope you like it anyway!**

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"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Rose was sitting stiffly in a chair in the Tardis kitchen, wondering how in the hell she had ended up there. From directly behind her, she could hear the idle snip of the scissors attacking her hair.

"For the twenty third time, _yes_, Rose!" The Doctor mumbled, stepping around from behind the chair to face her. He had a comb clamped firmly in his mouth, hence the mumbling, and a pair of scissors carefully positioned in his left hand. His right hand was holding a bottle of some alien hair-styling-thingy.(It's name went something along the lines of Käalpańthraśtis, but Rose had promptly forgotten the proper pronunciation after the accompanying four minute lecture on the vitamins, minerals, and other benefits it had on hair.) The Doctor had sworn up and down that it was the best hair product in this galaxy. Rose wasn't so sure about that; it made her hair smell like it was burning. She also wasn't sure about the Doctor's hair cutting skills, since she had been sitting in the chair an awfully long time already, and he wasn't half way done yet.

"But are you _sure_," Rose hedged, squirming uncomfortably in her chair. The Doctor took the comb out of his mouth to frown at her.

"I'm a renowned hair stylist on four different planets, Rose. I think I know what I'm doing."

With that, the Doctor returned the comb to its resting place between his teeth, and set back to work on his task. She was left switching between nervously eying the scissors and staring at the Doctor's rather adorable, determined facial expressions.

Even when she doubted him, she couldn't help but marvel at his cuteness. Again, she wondered how in the hell she had ended up in this position.

Today had started just like every other day. Rose had woken up to the smell of breakfast, and met the Doctor in the kitchen. After they had a friendly discussion over tea and pancakes (the topic being the pros and cons of adopting a pet giraffe - the Doctor for and Rose against) they went to the console room, where the Doctor promised her they'd visit a world where the trees literally sang. Rose had been delighted at first. Not only did he manage to land on the correct planet for once, the tropical plants had beautiful voices and the view was amazing. It was too bad that he mucked up the timing and they arrived when a group of carnivorous flowers had begun taking over the planet - because one had chomped right trough a chunk of Rose's hair.

So here they were, with the Doctor trying to correct the damage the flower had done to her blonde locks. He had promised her over and over again that he did, indeed, know what he was doing. But now, with his brow furrowed in concentration and his chocolate brown eyes staring fiercely at her, she wasn't so sure.

"Doctor?"

"Mmm?" He mumbled around the comb.

"What is that burning smell?" she finally dared to ask.

He paused, sniffing the air as if he hasn't noticed it before. He took the comb out of his mouth, and Rose found herself staring as she discovered how surprisingly attractive that motion was. _Why was his face so damn adorable?_ "Well, I thought it was the hair product..." he muttered under his breath.

"Wait. What?" Rose stared at him, and this time not because he seemed overly cute. After all, how could such a smart Time Lord be so stupid?! "Give me that bottle!"

The Doctor frowned, before reaching to the table and transferring the bottle to her hands.

Carefully, she examined the directions on the back. "Warning:" she read aloud, "Only use with anti-gravity spiking gel." She couldn't help the small grin that crossed her face as she looked up at the Doctor. He met her gaze, challenging her to mention it.

"Anti-gravity spiking gel?" The Doctor glared at her. "_Anti-gravity spiking gel._" He only raised one eyebrow in response. "That's how you do it?"

"What? You think my hair just does this on it's own?" The Doctor waved his hand exasperatedly at his spiky head.

Rose burst out laughing at his apparent irritation towards the subject. "It just makes sense, that's all," she said, poking her tongue out between her teeth in amusement.

She went back to reading the label on the hair product. "Warning: Only use with anti-gravity spiking gel," their eyes made contact and she let out another small chuckle. "... Do not use product on damp hair. Do not use product on blonde hair. Do not use product without anti-gravity spiking gel. Any of these cases may cause hair to combust."

Rose paused for the moment, her mood quickly swinging from one of mirth to one of horror. "_Combustion_?" She quickly threw the bottle at the Doctor, who caught it in surprise.

"What's wrong?" He asked, shocked at her sudden outburst. She could see his mind reeling, working out possible reasons for her anger.

"One: my hair is _damp_. Two: my hair is _blonde. _Three: I am not using anti-gravity _SPIKING GEL_." Rose almost growled the last words.

In a moment, Rose could see everything click in the Doctor's mind. "That burning smell..." He trailed off awkwardly.

"So help me god, Doctor, if you don't fix this I'm cutting all of _your_ precious hair off." It didn't matter that it would be a tragedy for the universe - Rose was angry. And when she was angry, not even the most perfect hair in the galaxy could stand in her way.

The Doctor's hands immediately shot up to his oh-so-precious hair in sudden fear for its safety. He gave Rose a sheepish grin, trying to analyze her emotions. He could sense her anger, but he could also tell that she was desperately trying to fight off panic.

"So- um - yes... Combustion..." The Doctor scratched his head, protecting his beloved hair. "Haven't dealt with this for a few hundred years."

Rose wanted to scream at him in frustration. She wanted to storm across the room and rant at him for his stupidity and she wanted to shove him up against the wall and kiss them and then rant some more and then...

_Kiss him_? Where had that come from? She was furious right now, she reminded herself. Her hair was about to go up in flames. But the way those big brown eyes were looking at her with concern made her want to snog the living day lights out of him. After she strangled him, of course.

"Doctor, I appreciate how you're staring at me and all, but I'd really appreciate something that would... not set my hair on fire?" She said this as calmly as she could, all the while desperately hoping her hair was still relatively intact.

Well, at least as intact it could be after a plant demolished it.

"I have something that might help! Don't move!" The Doctor sprang up from his chair and dashed out of the kitchen, clutching his hair protectively in one hand.

"Stupid git," she muttered, trying to spot her hair out of the corner of her eyes. She wasn't as angry about this as she thought she would've been. Sure, having her head catch on fire was bad, but she'd been through a lot worse.

Rose quickly realized that being left alone in this situation was not a good. All she had to keep her distracted was the smell of her burning hair and the thoughts of the Doctor's rather attractive form flying out of the room in search of some remedy. And despite the danger to her hair, she found herself rather fondly thinking about the latter.

The problem was, when the Doctor was inside the Tardis, he was much more relaxed about his appearance . He lost the suit jacket, and he wore his tie loosened - he only wore it more out of habit than anything. His shirt sleeves tended to be rolled up past his elbow, which revealed forearms usually smudged with grease and who knows what else from working on the Tardis. More often than not his glasses were hanging out of his shirt's front pocket. And when he combined that relaxed, geeky mechanic look with his pinstriped trousers and converse, Rose wasn't really sure how to handle him. Especially when he went dashing out of a room, giving her the perfect opportunity to study his arse. And, if Rose had to admit it, that brown suit sure was form-fitting. She sure as hell wasn't going to complain, but it did leave her wondering just how roomy those trousers were.

It sure was a different style from her first Doctor. Sometimes she missed the leather jacket and the giant smile that matched the giant ears, but she had to admit this Doctor was much more comfortable around her. He laughed and flirted and was in general a more loving person.

And Rose couldn't help but love that.

_Damn, girl. Get it together_. She shifted in her seat, trying to shake the thoughts of the Doctor from her mind. Instead she focused on the smell of burning hair and tried to make herself annoyed again.

The Doctor chose that moment to dash into the room, his spiked hair upset like he had been running his hands through it. Rose wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through his hair.

Annoyed was not an emotion she could handle right now.

"Got it!" The Doctor said, only slightly out of breath. "I only had to run to the library to get it! I'm glad I kept this in my room."

She couldn't help but hold back her curiosity. She had never seen the Doctor's room before. "You're room's in the library?" Rose asked.

"Yes. No. Sometimes?" The Doctor scratched the back of his head with the bottle. "It changes, you know?"

"Well, sorry for asking, but could we get a move on my hair?" Rose said rolling her eyes.

"Oh yeah, combustion." The Doctor immediately began unscrewing the lid, but Rose stopped him.

"Give me the bottle," she commanded. He passed it to her wordlessly, still afraid for the sake of his hair. It took a few seconds for the Tardis to translate the language, but Rose was reading the back of the bottle in no time.

After close inspection of the hair product, she handed it back to the Doctor. It seemed relatively harmless. "Okay, this should work."

He offered her another sheepish grin as he poured some of the product into his hand. "Uh, sorry?"

Rose tried and failed to not smile at his enormous brown puppy dog eyes. "Shut up and just fix my hair," she mumbled at him.

The Doctor, as always, took note of her emotional state and deemed her as no longer a hazard to his hair. His apologetic smile quickly turned into a small grin as he began to massage the hair product into her scalp.

After several moments of quiet, he spoke. "Really though, Rose. I am sorry."

Although Rose could only see the front of his dress shirt and tie, (a view she would have enjoyed more were she not concerned about her hair) she could tell the Doctor was being sincere. "I know, Doctor. 'S no big deal." Besides, the hair product combined with the Doctor's gentle hands felt really _good_. Was that weird? She didn't know.

A few more moments passed without either of them speaking. Rose smiled as she remembered something from earlier. Her tongue poked out of the side of her mouth in a wicked grin. "Do you still know what you're doing, Doctor?"

His mood switched so quickly, she could almost smell the annoyance radiating off of him. "The one time I try to do something domestic..." he muttered as he rubbed Rose's head.

It took everything she had not to laugh. He was so easily offended. "Sure, hair cuts may be a domestic thing, but aren't you a 'renowned hair stylist on four different planets?'" she quoted with a smile. For a second, having her hair burned off was so worth getting to tease him.

"I feel really awful about this and you're having a go at me?" The Doctor leaned back so they could make eye contact, but his hands lingered in her hair. Rose met his gaze unapologetically.

"It's my hair you burned off, how d' ya think I feel?"

The Doctor didn't respond. His eyes searched Rose's face, looking for... what? Rose didn't know, but she didn't say anything about it either. Sometimes, she realized, it was best to let the Doctor just be alien. She didn't mind his weird habits and his tendency to hold eye contact for too long. In fact, it just gave her an excuse to stare back at him.

After almost an entire minute of looking at each other, the Doctor coughed awkwardly and found something very interesting to look at on the wall to his left. "Ah, weeellll," he said, stretching the word out, "I bet you feel almost as bad as I do. Almost. After all, this whole combustion matter is my fault. Weelll, sort of. Not really. Despite the fact that I really am trying to help I-" Rose stared at him in amazement as his face started turning red. The Doctor? Blushing? The only reason why Rose wasn't giggling was because she was extremely confused.

When the Doctor rambled, he was either trying to be impressive, stall for time, or save the universe. He very rarely felt awkward. But seeing how the the first three options weren't likely, he could only be embarrassed. But what about? Normally, the Doctor only blushed when Jack flirted with him or he said something a little too revealing about himself. Their many staring contests had never resulted in this. His face was almost the color of his red trainers!

"Doctor," she cut him off, praying she hadn't screwed something up, "Before you ramble on for eight years, could ya tell me what's wrong?"

"I- I- Uh-" The Doctor's jaw worked furiously, but no words left his mouth. He still was staring determinedly at the wall. What had she done? Why was he acting this way?

Rose rolled her eyes at him. "Spit it out." Her voice was confident, but on the inside she was screaming, _WHAT DID I DO OH WHAT DID I DO OH-_

"It's just..." The Doctor's eyes met hers uncertainly. "You smell really good."

Shock flooded through her at his statement, followed by relief. "Doctor, I smell like I'm about to catch on fire." Rose reminded him with a shy smile. The Doctor's nervous attitude melted away when he saw she wasn't disturbed by his revelation.

"Well, that's because you're smoking hot," he replied with a wink.

Rose couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from within her. The Doctor beamed back at her, as he always did when Rose laughed. "You were embarrassed," she giggled, poking the Doctor fondly in the stomach.

He jumped back from her fingers, revealing soapy hands that Rose wasn't able to see before. "Oi! Was not!"

"You were _so_ embarrassed!" she teased. "You even blushed!"

The Doctor just frowned her with his signature I-am-a-superior-species-what-do-you-know-about-anything-you-stupid-ape expression. He opened his mouth, and Rose knew immediately that the adorable, insufferable alien had a speech prepared. "I'll have you know Rose," he began importantly, "Time Lords don't blush. It's physically impossible due to the lack of gigatrotamine in our blood streams, and even if we could blush I wouldn't anyway because someone of my stature doesn't..."

Rose rolled her eyes and smiled at him, already settling back in her chair in preparation for his lecture. The Doctor moved forward again to work the remainder of the product into her hair, but he didn't stop his rambling.

With a contented sigh, Rose closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the Doctor's voice and the feeling of a certain unblushing Time Lord's fingers in her hair.

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**I should probably be working on Just Another Story, but today was the first day I've had free time in a long time(I have a job now*sigh*), and I felt like my OTP deserved some love. They are just darling babies and I want to cuddle them forever. :3 Also, if you have any tips on how to end a fic, please mention it in the review or in a PM. I am majorly bad at endings and sort of need help. Thanks in advance!  
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**Please leave a review, and have a fantastic day! **


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